Full House
by NellieRai
Summary: Tie in with the Cub'verse Three's A Crowd. With a twist. His wife seems to have vanished and the logical part of his brain assumes one of their kids has awoke but there's another side that thinks alien abduction. Maybe that's the side still buried in dreams.


**Disclaimer: Not mine. :)**

**A/n: This was written for Karisa because her birthday was Oct. 6th. She's already read this but I finally got around to posting it. **

**Set in the cub'verse. During Three's A Crowd but with a twist. Castle's POV this time. **

It's silent when his eyes open, when the ceiling appears above him, blurred and barely visible through the dark. Late or early morning, he doesn't have a clue but something's not right. It takes him only a few seconds to realize what it is that woke him. The bed is cold. There's no warmth radiating next to him and when he stretches, tries to reach for her, she's not there. His wife seems to have vanished and the logical part of his brain assumes one of their kids has awoke but there's another side that thinks alien abduction.

Maybe that's the side still buried in dreams. It takes him several minutes to drag himself up into a sitting position. And rub a hand down his face. They've been doing this parenting thing for awhile together and he knows as soon as their child is back asleep then Kate will crawl back into bed. Her skin cool and her toes cold and she always presses right up against him. So he waits for her. Ready to curl around her, pull her in close and snuggle down for whatever is left of the night. He stays propped against the headboard, staring at the vacant spot where she's supposed to be.

And waits. He doesn't know how long he waits. Not exactly but he'd hazard a guess of ten minutes. Maybe. He's been dozing a little bit but every time he blinks himself awake, she's still not back in their bed. Now he's frowning, wondering what's taking so long. But he knows their children and he knows that sometimes the twins play tag team and keep them up quite awhile. They're still so small. His daughters. They've only been in their lives for a few months and every single day he feels more alive than he ever has before. More complete.

He never knew he would have four kids. Four of them. One already grown before the rest came along and that had never been the plan. But when Beckett had told him she was pregnant, everything changed. For the best. She gave him a son. A rambunctious little boy that now climbs everything and finds more trouble than Alexis ever had. And Castle is head over heels for him. Their son is amazing. A brilliant toddler with a growing vocabulary and a heart of solid gold. Not even two and he's as intuitive as his mother.

Same eyes as her too. And then she got pregnant again. Rather quickly. That first year was a whirlwind. A baby, a proposal, and then a wedding. A honeymoon with lots of delicious memories and soon after, another pregnancy.

He remembers everything about both pregnancies. Though, the most recent was less than five months ago. How beautiful she looked. How excited they were both times when she started to show. He could still remember the way their son would kick every time he wrapped his arm around her. Their girls had been different. Lazy little Cash and wild little Peanut. Fighting for space inside her and yet they're only content together. And Kate loves him. She married him. They have a family. Which is still slightly more astonishing than anything else.

He married an amazing woman. And he's tired of waiting for her to crawl back in bed. She can handle this on her own and sometimes when she's grumpy, she makes sure he knows that she's more than capable of caring for their babies without his input but he still helps. He's still her partner and as silly as it seems, he wants her back in bed. His body misses hers.

So he stumbles through the loft, stubs his toe on the couch and trips up the third stair. Not paying attention and still too sleep numbed to care. Though the pain lancing through his foot still hasn't ebbed by the time he pokes his head in their son's room. Just to be sure he's still sleeping.

He is. Curled in his bed with his hippo and the blanket kicked down to the end of the mattress with Boomer sleeping protectively by him. Castle knows better than to fix the blanket. Their son sleeps hot. He always kicks it off no matter how many times they tuck it back over him. So he doesn't try this time. But he still steps into the room, watches Wes for a few seconds, taking comfort in his small heavy breaths and the way he snuffles in his sleep.

Perfection exists. Every single one of his kids are nothing short of perfect.

He leans over, runs a hand over his son's hair and kisses his head. The boy never wiggles. Their little Cub doesn't wake easily. And knowing that, Castle whispers his love before he leaves him.

The cooing he hears as he crosses the hall has a smile tugging at his lips before he ever enters the nursery. Soft pale colors bathed in lamp light greet him but that's not what has his heart jerking to a halt in his chest.

It's the sight of his daughter curled into her mother in the rocker. Nuzzled against her breast with little legs kicking and fingers reaching, touching. Charlie. He knows just by the sounds she makes as she eats, and the fact that he dressed her in the purple sleeper after her bath.

She hums. Ella slurps. And of course it's their quiet mellow little girl that always reaches for the rough puckered scar in the middle of Kate's chest. Ella doesn't ever notice.

It takes him a second to realize Kate's quiet. She usually talks or sings as she feeds but she's quiet and when he finally drags his eyes up from the baby in her arms, he finds hers are closed.

He darts a gaze to the crib in the corner, making sure Ella isn't awake too and then he closes the distance. Choosing to press his palm to Charlie's back for extra support instead of waking her mother. She's exhausted, over-tired from a long case with dark circles taking up a permanent residence beneath her eyes. So he just makes sure she has a good grip on their little girl, and watches over. He wishes he'd heard the baby first.

They have bottles in the fridge for nightly feedings and still his detective insists on the skin to skin contact. On being the one awake because she misses out daily and he knows that bothers her. So she gets up at night when their daughters are hungry. And sometimes she lets him grab a bottle and help out. But most of the time, she's here in the rocker with one or both of their girls latched to a breast and he's never been more in love than in these little moments.

He watches Charlie, the way her eyes droop and her little jaw eases up. Growing tired now that her hunger has been mostly filled and if his wife were awake, she'd be humming and singing something, talking. But he stays quiet until their daughter drifts off and her mouth slackens. That's when he moves her, when he reaches to cradle her and she whimpers for a moment.

Just a brief second when she's pulled from her mother but she quiets when he snuggles her close, whispers a soft "I've got you" against her hair.

He holds her for a few minutes, smiling softly at the fact that he succeeded in removing their girl from Kate's arms without her jolting awake in defense mode. But the glory is bittersweet. She's so tired. And unlike the baby breathing against his neck, she can't be comfortable.

He kisses Charlie's head before he lays her back in her crib. And he checks Ella again to be sure she's still out. He'll take a guess and say that his wife fed her first. Or she hasn't been hungry yet. The middle of the night feedings have slowed. And sometimes they get lucky and all three kids sleep solidly till morning. Early morning but still a good six hours.

When he makes his way back to Kate, he wishes this would've been one of those nights. He loves seeing her with their babies, but he loves it even more when she's not passing out from exhaustion. He kneels next to her, reaches to fix her bra first. He's tugging it back in place and adjusting her robe when he feels her fingers curl over the backs of his. So focused he didn't even notice her moving. But he looks up at her, her eyes half open and her lips curved.

It still punches through him. The fact that they're together, that they have a family and matching wedding bands. And that she looks at him like this, soft and sleepy and full of warmth.

"Hey." He barely hears her. There's not really even any sound behind the word. Just a sigh and the movement of her mouth but he knows what she's saying.

"You fell asleep feeding Charlie. She's out now."

"Ella?"

"Still sleeping. Come on." He stands, stretching out a hand for her to take.

She does. And he has her on her unsteady feet in less than a second. Making her crash into his chest but instead of pulling back, she stays. With her face buried there and her arms wrapping around him, she just stays.

She relaxes, melting against him. Tired and pliant. Content to stand there. But he's not. He coaxes her, with a hand stroking through her hair and one pressing to her spine.

"Let's go to bed, Kate."

She doesn't draw back but she doesn't protest when he does, when he guides her out of the room with an arm around her waist.

It's quiet the walk back down the stairs. Easy and quiet. And as soon as they're in their bedroom, she's shrugging out of her robe, letting it hit the floor and then flopping on the bed.

No grace in her movements. Sloppy and heavy limb'd. A deep sigh escaping her lungs when she hugs the pillow and he almost expects her to be asleep before he ever slides in next to her.

She's not. Her eyes open, barely but he catches the glint in the dark and reaches for her. She comes willingly, her body fitting perfectly against his. Warmth and softness in her curves. Playfulness in the toes that poke at his own and heat in the mouth that presses to his chin. A sloppy kiss that he dips to meet. Lazy and open and entirely too frisky for her being dead on her feet.

He groans out her name, nipping her lips and she huffs a laugh there. Letting him taste it.

"C'mon Castle, kids are asleep."

"Kate." He means it as a warning but her hand is wandering between them. Groping and sliding against his stomach, slipping beneath his pajama pants until he feels her fingers on his skin. "You're so tired."

"So knock me out."

He doesn't stop her. He participates, wandering hands of his own, divesting her of clothing. And he makes it his personal mission to do just as she requested.


End file.
